It's approximately one week before Alex's due date, which could possibly be his birthday, and the feeling is absolutely surreal. The complete infatuation that I have for my son is indescribable, like all the crushes and admiration that I ever had for people in my life all balled up into one big emotion. I have a lot of love inside of me to give to my son, countless kisses and countless hugs, and a thousand gazes of love and adoration that I can't wait to give him. Whenever I see him shift inside my wife's tummy, I can't help but think that he's waving at us, or at least holding up his little hand and gesturing, "Soon, people. Just be patient."

Inevitably, I think about my own father and our relationship during this dusk of my impending fatherhood. I don't have a lot of memories about him, and most of what I do remember of him was simply me looking up to him, wanting to do what he's doing. Had he been present in my life more so, I might be fishing a lot, swimming even more, getting some interest in helicopter aviation, karatae, guitar playing, and perhaps even carrom. Carrom is a weird version of pool, essentially, but it's a square board, made of wood, and there are little wooden red and black discs that you have to hit. There's the striker disc which is made of plastic, and you use that to flick the other discs into the pockets. I remember flicking the striker disc once, and it flew and smacked my shirtless father in the chest, and he went "Ow." and rubbed his chest. I remember laughing hysterically at that.

My friend Abby once said that in my situation, a child raised pretty much without a father figure, I'll either be the worst father to my child, or the best dad ever because I'll be wanting to give all the love and attention that I wish I would've had to my child. I hope it'll be the latter.